Laid Back
by Illusion522
Summary: After JWFK. Prompt from tumblr: "Claire has apparently ditched the extreme dieting somewhere between JW and FK. How about something where Owen is, um, appreciative of her new (not-child-related) curves? I think she might be surprised by that." (Rated M for sexual content)
1. Chapter 1

"Can I get you a beer?" Claire said, heading toward her refrigerator. Owen turned to look at her. The image was objectively unremarkable, but somehow, even with everything they'd been through in the last day or so, he couldn't help but see it as one of those perfect little polaroid moments: the midnight hum of the city outside, the glow of the refrigerator light spilling over her and onto the floor as she retied her ponytail… Her hair was actually even messier now, but he didn't have to tell her that.

"Did you bring 'em, or do we gotta like, go somewhere?" He joked, reprising his words from just a couple days back. Her front half dipped out of view behind the door as she ducked to reach inside. With a toss of her bangs, a roll of her eyes, and a smirk on her lips, Claire threw him a bottle. Despite his surprise, he caught it perfectly. She reached for the drawer beside her.

"Do you need a…" _Chhkt!_ Owen cracked the cap off before she could even offer him the bottle opener. She drew a breath as he took a brief sip. "Of course you don't."

Once he pulled his lips away from his beer, he paused and furrowed his brow at the bottle, contemplating, before he looked back up at Claire, who'd ducked back into the fridge for another. He couldn't help doing a little double-take at how good she looked in those jeans. Granted, he wasn't entirely acclimated to the change from skirts to jeans yet, but he also couldn't help but thinking she might've filled out a little bit since he'd last been with her. Claire popped back up from the fridge, bottle in hand, to find Owen staring at her, a goofy, endearing look his face.

"What?" She asked, shelling the cap off of her beer and taking a drink.

"Soo, is this the kind of diet that doesn't allow tequila, but _does_ allow beer?" He quipped as she made her way over.

"I've been…" She sighed, sitting down next to him, tucking her knees up, and moving her ponytail over her shoulder. "… a little more laid back lately, you could say."

"I could tell," He said, a little smile tugging at his lips.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She said, sounding more defensive than she'd intended. He chuckled into the lip of his beer bottle. "I-is that a good thing?" She pressed.

"Well one, you got beers in your very own fridge. Two, you're wearing jeans. You got your knees all tucked up instead'a crossing 'em like the Queen of England the way you used to…" He took a sip, mostly just wanting to pause and watch her react. Her mouth hanging slightly open, she was weirdly impressed; He had her down pat. He continued counting out his list on his fingers. "Your obvious change of shoes. You don't straighten your hair anymore. You don't even cut it all…" He made an awkward-looking gesticulation in the shape of the specific director-of-operations-bob-cut she used to wear. She couldn't help but chuckle.

"And, Claire," He paused to set his beer down so he could more effectively lean back and motion at himself to illustrate his point. "Board shorts guy, remember? _You know_ I think it's a good thing!" She fought off another eye roll as she slipped a coaster underneath the bottle.  
"Of course I remember." She mused, a fondly exasperated expression lighting up her face.

"Plus," He shrugged. "Since you've been doing this whole _laid back_ thing…" He smiled a smile that was somehow both devilish and sweet at the same time, and then gave her a clear head-to-toe once-over. "More than your skin is looking really good."

"Owen—"

"Seriously," He threw his hands up, as if to assert his genuineness, punctuating the sentiment with a subtle but unmistakable squint that furthered his point. "You look damn good."

Claire seemed taken aback on some level, mouth hinged open as she struggled to pull better words out of thin air.

"I mean it," He said. She crinkled her nose in response. "I really do." With the tiniest shake of her head, Claire set her beer down as well. "Claire Dearing, do not make me have to prove my point," he warned playfully, scooting closer to her.

"Owen—" He pressed his lips into hers, his stubble rough against her skin, and his hand warm against her cheek. When he pulled back, she had to struggle for air this time instead of words. Well, words too, but air was an obvious priority.

With a smirk on his face, Owen simply gave her a quick wink and a, "You're welcome." He laughed a warm, low laugh under his breath as he picked his beer back up and took a drink, still eyeing her as he did so. She knew all too well what he was thinking about now. And admittedly, she was thinking about it too, but she also knew better than to make such choices when they were both so mentally compromised.

"Well," She sighed, standing back up before she did anything regrettable. "We've been awake and on the verge of dying for nearly forty-eight hours, and I, for one, am exhausted. There are pillows out already, and you remember where the blankets are—"

"But you just sat down," Owen whined. He knew she was right to call it a night; He was exhausted too. But he'd just missed her too much to forfeit her to sleep. "What about that whole laid back thing?"

"Good night, Owen." She said more firmly as she began walking toward her bedroom. He'd already made it nearly impossible for her to go, but all it took was one more sigh to warrant one more glance from her.

"Night, Claire." He said. She shouldn't have turned around at all, and she definitely shouldn't have looked him in the face. She couldn't leave him out here.

"Fine." She surrendered. "Look, I'm going to take a quick rinse-off now, and whenever you're done out here, you can come join me in my room if you want." She tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear and smiled at him. "But you know, just because I won't able to sleep alone." While she didn't actually do it, there was a wink in her voice that lit him up like a flare.

"I guess I gotta finish this quick, then." He said, nodding toward his beer.

"Guess so," she agreed. And then she was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

In the state she'd been in, anything sudden meant panic for Claire. Especially now that she stood wrapped up in nothing but a towel, wet hair tumbling down her back, she was feeling extremely vulnerable. The shower wasn't nearly lengthy enough to dissipate the unease till simmering in her body, but she wanted to be dry and dressed and in bed as soon as possible. And for someone as hyper-efficient as Claire, that meant she was in and out of the bathroom in a maximum of ten minutes.

While it was unlikely Owen would be in her room already, Claire wanted to make sure there wouldn't be any surprises, cracking the door open and slowly and taking a sweep around with her eyes. Not only was the room empty, but she could hear that Owen had the TV on out in the living room. She stepped out of the bathroom, her bare feet feeling so clean and comfortable against the rug as she walked toward her dresser. She couldn't help but let out a little sigh of relief… or maybe contentment as she pulled the middle drawer open with one hand, holding her towel up with the other.

Oddly enough, it'd been a long time since things felt as right as they did right then. Claire couldn't remember the last time she had anyone else over, much less anyone like Owen. The tiniest smile warmed her face as she imagined him out there, just sitting on the couch, finishing his beer… surely not using a coaster, but that's for later, she'd decided. Maybe even passed out at this point. Maybe she was just sleep-deprived or traumatized or _something_ , but she started to imagine more ridiculous things. Maisie wandering out of the guest room where they'd set her up, and just sitting there in the room with him. And he'd be saying… probably something stupid to cheer her up, and—

 _Whoa there._ She interrupted her meandering thoughts. Claire had to keep from rolling her eyes at herself for thinking things like that. She's never been that way. Or maybe, she's just never had the chance before. _Oh my god, get a grip!_ She reprimanded herself. But still, that other part of her held onto that feeling. Although it was something so simple, just the faint murmur of the TV floating through the apartment was the kind of passive company she didn't know she'd been starving for. Just _knowing_ that there's somebody out in the living room. Just _knowing_ someone was asleep in the guest room down the hall. And suddenly, this sterile, immaculate apartment felt that much more like a home. Claire drew a slow breath to take it all in. She was home now. She was safe.

 _"Hm—"_

 _"Owen!"_ She gasped, throwing her hands up and jumping halfway to the ceiling at the sound of him clearing his throat in the doorway. So much for safe.

"Relax," He chuckled as he watched her scramble to get her towel back where it belonged. "Nothin' I haven't seen before."

 _"Jesus, Owen…"_ She breathed, trying to tuck her towel around her chest a little better this time. "I thought you were still out in the living room."

"Well I was, but then I figured I should hose down too. Downed the beer, hopped in the guest shower, and now I'm here. Asking you if you still have any of my clothes I left here like two years ago." Claire, still preoccupied with her towel, had hardly noticed that he, too was wearing only a towel. "Plus, I missed you."

"Two years… is kind of a… long time…" She responded, perfecting her towel tuck.

"If that one's not working out for you, you can try this one," He flirted, walking right up to the dresser and dipping down to the bottom drawer.

"That won't be necessary." She threw her hair up into a dark, heavy bun to keep it from dripping on the floor while he rummaged through her clothes. "And please don't—"

"Don't do that, Owen; You won't find anything," He mocked playfully, plucking a pair of his grey boxers from the bottom of the drawer. "Two years is kinda a long time," He continued, pulling out an old henley, a T-shirt, and a pair of socks, raising his eyebrows at her as if to say, _Really, Claire?_

"I said two years was a long time." She felt herself blushing as she tried not to let on how embarrassed she was. She couldn't even bring herself to look him in the eye. "I never said I got rid of your things."

"Ohhhhh you liked mmeeee," He taunted.

"Don't push it." Claire said, looking around now for her own underwear she'd dropped. Owen picked them up off the floor and handed them to her, now decidedly teasing.

"These are nice."

Claire blushed even harder, grabbing them from him. "Thank you—"

"Especially when they're not on."

"Ha, ha. Very funny." She said, pulling them up underneath her towel and turning back toward the dresser to reach for her pajama set. She was admittedly too flustered to move very quickly, so when Owen stood up, he beat her to it, slipping his hand into the drawer and retrieving the grey-and-white set himself.

"Hey—"

"These are also nice," He said, sauntering away with the garments. "Y'know. Especially 'cause they're not on." He took a seat on the ottoman placed at the foot of the bed. Claire sauntered right after him, stopping directly in front of him just between his knees.

"Are you going to give me my pajamas?" She asked as he put his arms around her waist.

"Depends," He said, cocking his head to the side. "You gonna take this off before you put them on?" He tugged on her towel ever so slightly. She raised her eyebrows as if to say, _are you crazy?_ He raised his in response, a clear, _you heard me._

"I'm not undressing in front of you tonight." She said with a shake of her head, mostly just reassuring herself. He laughed. "What's so funny?"

"Not the first time I've heard that."

"I'm sure you've heard it plenty of times, Grady."

"All of them from you." He laughed. "And almost every single one of them ended up bein' a lie."

" _What_?" She said, skeptically. "Like when?"

"Well, there was that time you wanted to drive, but I wouldn't let you, so you got all fake mad at me, and then... let's say… well… you weren't mad anymore. And then there was that other time that we were on our first date… or I should say, our _second_ first date… And of course, who could forget our _actual_ first date, when you—"

Claire leaned forward and kissed him abruptly, deeply, tenderly. When she finally pulled back, Owen was effectively distracted.

"Y'know you're just training me to keep being obnoxious." He breathed.

"And you're just reinforcing my methods of shutting you up."

"What can I say; I'm a simple man."

"So are you going to give me my pajamas?"

"Are you gonna make me?" He said, pulling her closer. And with a fiery little smirk, she kissed him again.


	3. Chapter 3

(Warning: Explicitly mature content ahead)

His eyes fell on her body as if replacing the towel as he tucked her pajamas behind his back. A look of absolute awe shimmered on his face at the sight of her, which Claire found amusing.

"Nothing you haven't seen before, right?" She reminded him with a bat of her lashes.

"I stand corrected." He said dumbly. Claire narrowed her eyes confusedly. "I mean, there's a little more I haven't seen before." He gripped her hips firmly to illustrate the sentiment, his eyes glancing toward her chest. "That's new."

There was a pause as Claire tried to find a good way to respond. Part of her knew it was a probably a compliment, but the other part wasn't so sure. That same other part of her that made her want to live exclusively on quinoa, kale and water in the first place. She bit her lip coyly.

"I like," He said with a wink before he kissed her again.

"What's that look?" He asked her once they pulled away.

"What look?" Claire said, trying to keep a little composure despite the obvious flush of her skin and shallowness in her breathing.

"Y'know… that one." He said, brushing a finger beneath her chin.

"I guess I'm just a little surprised… I mean, the reason I went on all those diets in the first place was…" She crinkled her nose and shrugged. "I'm just surprised you like it is all."

"Oh, I really like it," Owen chuckled, nodding for emphasis. "Not to say I wasn't totally with it before, but like…" He looked her up and down again and gave her a low, hungry grunt. "You know I love it when you're not so…" He hung on the word, looking for the right one to say next.

"Controlled?" She finished for him, leaning in closer, pressing against him as she slowly snuck her hand behind his back toward her pajamas.

"Yeah."

"I like control," she said, her fingers finding the cotton while his hands made their way under her thighs.

"I could tell." He said it like a challenge, something in his expression mischievous. Claire only had time for a split-second of confusion before he suddenly picked her up and threw her down on the bed. "Come on, Dearing, you gotta do better than that."

Pajamas clutched in her fist, Claire held them up triumphantly. "Looks like the joke's on you." She looped her arms behind his neck, pulling him in so close he could feel her breathe as their skin brushed, the air hot and electric between them. "Who's got to do better now?"

Their eyes locked on one another, every second felt like an eternity. Owen, supporting himself on one elbow, slowly traced his other hand from her hip, up her waist, and over her ribs, a shudder shimmering through her body and parting her lips to draw a gentle gasp. He relaxed down onto her slightly more, his body pressing against hers as his hand continued its path upwards, his lips now brushing just next to hers.

"Still you," He said as in one sudden, swift moment, his lips collided with hers, and his hand pinned her wrists above her head. Claire, although surprised, couldn't be more relieved to have him kissing her like this, the singeing in her chest beginning to burn into a flutter. Her legs pulled themselves up and around his hips as he pressed himself closer still, his mouth now leaving sensual kisses just under her jawbone. He moved downwards, onto her neck and towards her chest. Once he hit the dip just above her collarbone, Claire felt another shimmer, this time rolling her hips and letting out a moan before she could help it.

"Where's that control now?" He said as she looked back at him, breathing heavily and pinned so eagerly vulnerable beneath him. Her skin flushed bright pink, both from arousal, and consequently, embarrassment. She did nothing but bite her lip in response. He smirked. She hated that he knew her like this.

" _God dammit, Claire,_ " He growled, out of breath. " _You're gonna be the death of me._ "

He released her wrists, and she pulled him right back in, kissing him like she'd suffocate if she didn't. Owen had no trouble reciprocating, now slipping his tongue over her bottom lip, just as desperate for her as she was for him. Claire touched him feverishly, relishing the warmth of his skin against her palms as he dove back into her neck, his lips making her tremble with anticipation. When he bit down on a spot just below her jawbone, she dug her nails into his back and pulled the towel off of his waist with her legs. Kicking the towel the rest of the way off.

He slipped his hand into her underwear and between her legs, toying with her further. Her breathing was erratic as he slowly transitioned from palming her to sliding his fingers inside her. She moaned again, squirming in his hand as he pulsed his fingers with one hand and started peeling her underwear off with the other. She helped him, taking them the rest of the way down herself before he lowered himself between her legs, still moving his fingers inside her as he started placing kisses on her hip, moving slowly, torturously down toward the inside of her thigh. She sputtered, back arching in delicious anguish, feeling his fingers inside her, his mouth, his breath, so maddeningly close to her. He brushed his mouth up her thigh. Slowly... Slowly... So very slowly...

Just when Claire thought she couldn't handle it any longer, Owen pressed his tongue into her, making her eyelashes flutter and her jaw hinge open. With a tender flick of his tongue and pulse of his lips, he'd flipped something in Claire, igniting a side of her that _very_ few people had ever even conceptualized. She was gasping for air, and grasping at the sheets around her, growing dangerously close to completely losing it. As he upped the intensity, she involuntarily matched him, now rolling her hips into the feeling, grabbing at the sheets more aggressively. With a few more flicks of his tongue against her, she was really beginning to break, tensing up around his fingers and tugging at his hair just before she-

He pulled himself away.

" _Fuck_ ," He chuckled, out of breath as he looked down at her, now stroking himself. She couldn't help staring; She was incredibly attracted to him. "Damn, you get me going." He said, now rubbing against her, teasing.

"I want you," She said, urgency clinging to her words. He gave her a mischievous look as if asking for more. " _I need you._ " She begged.

At that, he stopped his teasing and pressed himself into her. At the point he'd brought her to, that was all she needed.

" _Fuck!_ " She gasped at the feeling of him. "Owen!-"

He felt her tighten around him, bucking her hips as he thrust into her, looking her in the eyes as she came.

" _Jesus, Claire._ " It'd been so long they'd been this close, this intimate together. Just two short days ago, neither of them would've never guessed this would be happening. But here they were, sharing each other in a way they'd both been starving for. She knotted her hands in his hair, tugging gently in a way that made him both tense and weaken at the same time. She was so full of him, she could feel him tremble as he rolled his hips into her, his breath hot in her ear and his hands firm on her body. He kept up a rhythm that was somehow both satisfied her and gave her a dire craving for more.

" _Oh my god-_ " Claire couldn't help screaming now, feeling him sliding into her, deeper and deeper every time. " _Owen-_ " She couldn't even breathe now without crying out. He kissed her hard, and then replaced his lips with his hand, quieting her.

"You know I love that, but we don't want to wake anyone," He said. It wasn't technically a lie; He _didn't_ want to wake anyone, but he also just liked to watch her out of her usual _woman-in-charge_ element. Although counterintuitive, she moaned into his palm in response, needing more of him every second. And he was eager to oblige, quivering with restraint, trying not to lose all control himself. With one last whimper from Claire, Owen had to slow down or he was going to explode. Somehow, it was even harder to control himself as he rolled into her slowly. Once he slid all the way in, he had to almost stop completely, feeling her responding to the throbbing inside of her. As excruciatingly slow as Owen was taking it, Claire needed him, almost involuntarily grinding her hips into him, begging him for more. She moved her hips in just the right way, and Owen twitched inside her. Gasping, she dug her nails into his back. That's what pushed him over the line.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum-" He said, rescinding his hand from her mouth and pulling out, white beginning to dribble from the tip of his cock. Claire grabbed his hips and looked into his eyes.

"Inside me," She begged, her voice dripping in desire. Not about to argue, Owen finally released, slamming hungrily into her with a depth and intensity that pulled her instantly back up to that same level. Claire bit down on her lip even harder trying to keep her voice down, but as she felt him cumming inside her, she just couldn't stop herself anymore.

 _"Oh!"_ She cried out in unbearable pleasure, gripping at him desperately. _"Owen!-_ "

 _"Ohfuck-"_ He growled into her neck, grabbing a satisfying handful of her hips as he spilled into her, warm and passionate, pushing himself as deep as he could, his length twitching as it filled her up. They continued to grind against each other, still writhing in the feeling before exhaustion began to creep in like a little knock to remind them both that they'd been far too active for far too long.

Claire propped herself up as Owen pulled out, spilling himself over her thighs and onto the bedsheets. She swallowed, breathless and quenched. She shook her head slightly, awed by the man still resting between her legs.

" _Holy shit,_ " She exhaled, unable to say anything else. Also out of breath, he chuckled in response, laying down beside her.

"Bet you do that to all the girls," She half-joked.

"Honestly only... twice, I think in the last few years." She rolled onto her side, and he placed his arm over her, finally getting to hold her like this for the first time in years. "Neither time held a candle to you."

"And I'm sure you told them that too, right?"

"I'm serious, babe." He kissed her tenderly and slipped a lock of hair off of her neck. "And now? With this..."

"Stop talking about my butt."

"I'm not just talking about your butt!"

"And my tits," She added.

"Alright, you caught me." They both laughed quietly, softly. "All jokes aside. I really missed you. And I'm really glad I get to be with you tonight."

"Okay, I admit. Me too." He could feel her roll her eyes without even seeing her face. She heaved a short little sigh. "And if this is what it gets me, I'm also glad I've been a little more laid back lately."


End file.
